Like Klimt

Many will try and save your heart
Like surgeons on operating tables
Will take note of your sadness
Like shrinks in tiny offices
Will attempt to predict your impulses
Like weathermen on television
Will try to transform you into a masterpiece
Like Klimt after a long interruption

Tell them that you don’t need any of it
That bleeding is a sign that you’re alive
That your eyes eventually adjust in the dark
But you never go blind
That hurricanes only get stronger
As they move along
And that you’ve gathered enough sunlight in your hands
To turn anything into gold

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